


Only Solution

by SgurrDearg



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Based on Fan Art, Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang 2015, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 10:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5452820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SgurrDearg/pseuds/SgurrDearg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Troubled by the amount of work he has to do, and the consequences thereof, Anders takes matters into his own hands to find a better way. This fic is set in a Cyberpunk AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Solution

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by artwork by @spelunkingspacer for the Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang 2015.
> 
> Set in Act 3, so be aware that it's a little angsty for the most part.

Anders hammered away at the metal, his blond hair coming loose from his ponytail as he worked. Sweat dripped off of him. He glanced at the digital calendar; time was running out. He had to finish this. He paused for a moment, glancing at his scribbled plans thrown haphazardly across the workbench. Sighing, he placed his hammer on the bench and pulled the papers towards him. He was supposed to have a neat bend in the metal _here._ He ran a long finger down the lines in his sketches, eyes darting between the real thing and his ideas. He frowned, picking up his tools again. It was going to be a long night.

A few hours later, Anders had managed to finish two of the pieces he needed. It was a small step. He wiped the sweat away from his forehead and pulled his hair back into its usual style. He heard a small beep, and turned and smiled at the source. A small, wiry cat sat staring at him with its faintly glowing eyes, mouth open to mewl at him again. Wiry being the operative word; for the cat had patches of metal on its body and two limbs were entirely sculpted. Delicate wires could be seen connecting the organic with the metallic. It made its curious cry again at Anders, and he laughed.

“Ok, ok. You’re hungry. Sorry, Lady Stormheart. Who’s a beautiful kitty, hmm? You are! Who’s such a mean old owner? I am! Come on, let’s feed you.” Anders stopped cooing at his pet and switched off the light as they emerged from the room behind his clinic.

He walked over to the corner where he kept his food, Lady Stormheart winding her way around his skinny legs with his every step. He had a bowl of meat all ready for her. They were scraps that could have better served himself, but he didn’t care. He placed it on the floor and she happily started eating, small buzzes and purrs escaping as she chewed. Anders smiled fondly at her, stifling a yawn before returning to his room. He still had work to do.

It never took him long to get back into the swing of it again. He was fast, but his mind worked faster. He consulted his plans again, shoving them to the side as he moved the metal pieces to where he needed them. He donned a make-shift mask and curled his right palm, blue flames erupting from its centre. He focused on his hand, channelling that energy towards his index finger until the flames were shooting out of his fingertip. He exhaled.

As he calmed himself, so the flames calmed too. He edged closer to the workbench and took hold of some alloy that had previously been holding papers down. Careful to not spill any, Anders melted it with his finger onto the edge of one of his pieces of metal. He watched his work like a hawk. It had to be perfect.

“SIR! HEALER! HELP!”

The sudden whoosh as the door slid open and screams echoed through the room startled Anders, and he dropped the alloy with a clang. He whipped around, facing a young boy whose face was pale with fright.

“It’s me mam! You’re the healer, ain’t you? The baby’s coming, you’ve got to help!”

“Of course, don’t worry.” Anders grabbed his staff propped up by the doorway and ran out of the room following the boy. The mother was doubled-up in a heap by the clinic doorway, screaming in pain.

Anders knelt down beside her; gently placing a palm on her abdomen and allowing his healing magic to flow through. “Can you walk now?” He spoke softly, careful not to upset her further.

The woman nodded, tears still streaming down her cheeks and her eyes wide with fear. He put his arm around her shoulder and eased her to her feet. They walked over to the nearest bed and with some difficulty managed to get her rested.

It was a difficult birth. The baby had gotten the cord wrapped around its neck, and its older brother flapped from one side of the bed to the other, pawing at his mother. Anders had managed to stay calm. He was used to this. The refugees had lost so much already, their fear was understandable. He was also good at his job, and had safely delivered babies much worse off than this one. When the mother was sleeping, with her new-born in a crib beside her, and her son curled up on the next bed, Anders strolled back to his project.

He inspected his soldering that had been interrupted. It was as he’d thought- it would need to be fixed. He took hold of his mask again, rubbing his weary eyes. As he was lifting it to put it on, his movements stopped.

“Anders. Stop this. You are tired. You must rest and eat. This is pointless.” Justice’s voice boomed in Anders’ head. There were times when he couldn’t tell whose voice he was listening to, but there were still some things the spirit and the mage disagreed upon. Like this.

“Justice… I need to finish this. You know that. Everything is relying on this… and the alternative…” Anders’s voice trailed off. “I can’t let it happen.”

“You need to sleep and eat.” Justice repeated. “If you don’t, you won’t do your best job.”

Anders shook his head slightly. He knew Justice was right. But he was running on borrowed time as it was. So much had to be done, and his days were filled with the clinic and helping mages escape the city safely. He didn’t matter, especially if everything went to plan. So long as he completed everything, what that did to him made no difference. He didn’t care anymore.

“If everything relies on this, then you need to do your best. Eat, Anders. Sleep. Please.”

Anders rarely heard Justice say that word. It was advice he would have given any of his patients and he knew it made sense. If Justice had to resort to asking nicely then he knew he was being too difficult. He nodded and left the room, back to his supplies cupboard where he kept what little food he had and ripped off a hunk of bread. He felt Justice sigh with relief and couldn’t resist smiling. Sometimes the spirit could be an overbearing mother hen, but he meant well. He was also right, Anders conceded.

He made sure he staved off his hunger. He rarely felt hungry, in truth. Worry seemed to destroy most of his appetite and there was no shortage of that lately. It didn’t help that there was a lack of supplies getting to the refugees, and Anders could not stop that pang of guilt every time he took some for himself.

“You need to eat too.” Justice sounded bemused. If not for him, Anders would have starved long ago, too caught up in his work.

Anders waved the hunk of bread in front of his own face. “I am, see? Then I’ll sleep for a bit, I promise. I’ll need to be up early to tend to the patient.”

Justice couldn’t argue with that. It was Anders’ duty to care for his patients after all. Of course, once he was up and everything was tended to he would return to his projects.

Having eaten, Anders went through the door and all but collapsed onto his cot. He really was more exhausted than he had let on, and he should have known better than to think he could hide that from the spirit who shared his body.

He awoke early; some sunlight was filtering through the shuttered windows. That should please Justice, he thought. Quite often he would awaken before the sun. He checked on the new mother, who seemed to be doing well. They were eager to return home, whichever part of the street that was, and Anders let them go. He gave them as much food as he could spare and wished them well. Cleaning up didn’t take long either.

Often he would have runaway mages appear on his doorstep, begging for a way out of the city. He had been running an underground service for them for over six years now, appalled at the treatment they were receiving. Today, however, he was a free man. Free to hide in squalor and fear anyway. It was a relief for him. His goal was to benefit the mages, and this was the way to do it.

Anders worked all day, save for the moments where patients came through needing care, or Lady Stormheart wound herself around his legs demanding attention or food. He had made some progress at last. He surveyed his meticulous work that evening, nodding with satisfaction. What were once curved pieces of scrap metal was now one shining torso. He could do this.

He went to bed at a suitable time, now armed with a little more peace of mind. Finally things were going well, and hopefully he was on track to be finished before everything else fell to pieces. Anders fell asleep, still planning ahead until his mind drifted off.

He woke with a start. Sitting up and stretching his arms, he yawned loudly and looked around the small room. It was as he had left it, of course. A small glimmer caught his eye and he stood up to inspect it. As he walked, he noticed more glimmers around. Small movements in the air like the ground on a hot summer’s day. But this was Kirkwall. Ah. He was still asleep. He was in the Fade.

He was used to waking up in the Fade, as all mages were. It always took a few moments before he could recognise it, however. He heard footsteps, and smiled before turning around.

“Justice.”

Anders’ double nodded in greeting. The only difference between the two was the glowing blue light coming from Justice’s eyes and skin.

“I’m assuming you wanted to talk in person… otherwise you would have left me to frolic in some other part of the Fade.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Well then…” Anders cocked an eyebrow at his companion.

“This needs to stop.”

“What?”

“That thing… you need to stop building it.” Justice looked at Anders, a slight frown on his glowing face.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“You have other duties to attend to. The clinic, the mages-“

“This is part of that. You know that.” Anders looked down and rubbed his eyes.

“No. We could carry out that idea as planned, without this distraction. What you are doing is only for your own gain. It is not right.”

Anders sighed. “It isn’t for my gain at all. Why can’t you see that?”

Justice stared at him. He seemed as though he was about to make his retort but had thought better of it. Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck and turned away.

Anders watched his friend. Justice had been resistant of this idea from the start, always coming up with an excuse why Anders shouldn’t do it. There was no reason he should object to it. Not when everything was going so well.

Justice turned back to face him. “You know you’ve been neglecting your main research in favour of finishing this… thing.” He spat out the last word.

“I…” Anders faltered. Again, Justice was right. The whole reason he had been building the casing was because of his research. _Their_ research; it was _their_ plan to help all the mages in Kirkwall. “I can work on it. I can do both. I just needed time, Justice. It’s important to me.”

Their eyes met. Justice looked despondent, while Anders stared defiantly at him. It was a rare turn of events for them both. Neither seemed sure of how to proceed, and they both stood with their eyes still locked on each other.

Finally, Anders spoke. “I’ll put more work into finding the ingredients for the bomb.” Only in the Fade could he speak so freely. During the day he referred to it under his breath as his “research” in case anyone overheard. He couldn’t risk what few friends he had finding out his real plans and abandoning him. Or worse. Even in the Fade he was reluctant to utter that term. But being honest about it always made Justice more comfortable somehow, and Anders needed him back on side.

“It’s the right thing to do. You know that.” Justice’s voice had returned to its familiar confident tone.

“I’ll finish the bomb. I’ll finish it, as well as working on the android. I can do both.”

Justice had no reply. He sighed unhappily and shrugged.

Anders woke up early again. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling more exhausted than he had been before his sleep. A large weight had settled in his stomach. He hated fighting with his friends, but disagreements with Justice always hurt the worst. Reluctantly he sat up and began about his day.

Once his patients were seen to for the morning, and Lady Stormheart had been fed, the daily grind of analysing his bits of paper and plans began again. He pushed the scraps of metal and diagrams aside and pulled out a plastic covered book from below the bench. Blowing off dust from the jacket, he opened it with a creak and thumbed through the pages to where he had been last. It was an old textbook, but it did the trick. All he had to do now was read and occasionally take notes. If he was diligent enough he could get this finished in a few days at most. Then Justice would definitely be happy.

His study was interrupted later that day by some mages needing access to the tunnels out of the city. Anders left at once. Their safety was the most important thing. It always gave him comfort to speak with the fleeing apostates, it hardened his resolve. It also gave him the knowledge that he was doing the right thing and this would all soon be worth it. Justice’s encouragement could only go so far in easing his anxieties, and it seemed that was going to be in short supply now.

Crawling through the cramped tunnels was always tiring. Anders was not built to squeeze into small spaces in the first place, but his experiences in the Circle left him short of breath and panicky at the mere thought of it. He was the only one who could be trusted to not turn any mages in however, so sacrifices had to be made. Pity those sacrifices had to be so draining. Still, it could be worse. Better he was out here helping people, than locked in a dungeon and waiting for death.

He stifled his yawns as he checked on his patients that evening. He desperately wanted to get some sleep, but he couldn’t have a repeat of last night. He was also worried in case his nightmares happened again. Every time after he had been in Kirkwall’s tunnels he suffered flashbacks of his time in the Circle, trapped in a tiny room with no light or heat to keep him alive or sane.

He hated the overwhelming sadness he felt thinking he was back there, and the begrudging acceptance that this was his life, there would never be a way out. It kept happening over and over, and nothing he did could stop his dreams from taking over. Only the nights when Justice intervened could halt it. He wasn’t sure what would be worse this time.

Anders tossed and turned all night. He had worked for as long as possible, but soon he was making silly mistakes. Reluctantly he had gone to bed. The nightmares he was so certain of plagued him all night and he awoke feeling miserable. He still had so much to do, and so little energy to do it with. It hadn’t stopped him before.

Then again, he had had the support of Justice then. It was so frustrating not having him on side this time. Anders wasn’t doing anything unjust at all. He couldn’t understand his friend’s reluctance to hear him out on this, let alone agree. He sighed and rubbed his chin. It was time to get to work again.

He was sitting at his bench that afternoon, poring over the textbook. Lady Stormheart was curled up asleep on his lap, and he absent-mindedly scratched her ears as he studied. Suddenly, something on the page jumped out at him. That was _it!_

Anders jumped up and his cat hissed with fright, scarpering from the room without a backwards look. He didn’t care. He had the answer at last. Well, the answer to one of his problems at least. He turned to the bookcase that was filled with ancient magical journals and started pulling out the books, seemingly at random. It had to be here _somewhere._ At last he grabbed a grubby little notebook and flicked through the pages. A slip of paper floated to the floor and he immediately dropped to pick it up. Fingers trembling, he unfolded it.

It was a crudely drawn map of Kirkwall. Not only did it include the main buildings like the Chantry and the Hanged Man, but also the tunnels beneath the city, beneath even Darktown. These were the tunnels the city used for sewage and for electricity, but to Anders they were his escape routes for the mages. However, the route he used to leave the city he had memorised long ago. The rest of the tunnels were a dark labyrinth that he couldn’t risk exploring without a guide. He brought the map back to the workbench and carefully marked off areas according to his almanac.

He only needed sela petrae and drakestone to complete his bomb, and it seemed they would both be plentiful around the city. That would make things easier; no awkward questions from merchants. Relief flooded his mind and he was happy to feel some of that coming from Justice too. Perhaps all was forgiven now. No time to go down that road though, he was on a roll with this. He groaned a little as he realised he would need help gathering these materials. He had really hoped to do this alone and not involve his friends. They didn’t need to be tied to this, it was his burden.

Anders left his clinic straight away. If he put this task off, he would never undertake it. He pushed away his insecurities with a struggle and found himself knocking on the door to Hawke’s estate. He barely remembered walking there. Somehow it was safe for him to walk about the city, although it was not something he liked to do.

The Templars were a looming presence, particularly around the Gallows and Hightown. Anders could feel their eyes on him, and could almost feel a smug satisfaction at the immunity being Hawke’s friend gave him. Hawke could get anything she wanted. That was why he needed her.

Maker, he hoped she wouldn’t say no. Or ask too many questions. He had always had little faith in his lying abilities, but Justice didn’t help matters. Seemingly asking a spirit of Justice to conduct a little unjust behaviour was like drawing blood from a stone, no matter the righteousness of the desired outcome.

Hawke answered the door, as always. She wasn’t one to hire servants to do that for her. She smiled at Anders and stood back, gesturing into the house. Anders stepped in and stooped to fit himself through the doorframe. He turned around to look at his friend and saw her grinning.

“Well, well, looks like you can leave your clinic without being dragged away! What’s this about?”

Anders bit his lip. Now for the tricky part. “I… wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh?”

“I need you help… with something.” _Andraste’s knickers._

“Are you going to tell me at some point? Or am I supposed to guess?”

She was still grinning. That was a good sign. Anders would rather she found this funny than suspicious, the less questions she asked the better for both of them.

“Well?” Hawke crossed her arms and stared at him.

“Uh, well. You know… you know Justice?”

“How could I forget my one loyal friend?” She smirked again.

Anders stared at his boots. The longer he took to get this out, the funnier she was finding it. Hopefully that meant she was likely to help even if his lie was pathetically transparent. This was the only way he could get this finished. _Just get it done,_ he told himself silently.

“I think… I have found a way for us to… separate.”

Hawke’s jaw dropped. “Do you want that?”

“I… yes. That would be best.” Anders avoided her eyes. This was too obvious.

“If you’re sure… what does this have to do with me, though?”

“I need help gathering the ingredients for the potion to do it.” That part he was more confident about saying. There was more truth to that statement, nothing he had to be convincing about.

“Oh, that’s doable.” Hawke nodded. “When do you need to do it?”

 _When I’ve finished preparing everything else_ , he thought. “As soon as possible, if we can.”

There. Another step closer to completion. He could feel Justice being comforted by that notion but if anything it made Anders more nervous. After this bomb was finished, all he had to do was last minute planning. There would be nothing to hold Justice off whilst he finished his creation. Maybe his lie to Hawke held more truth than he knew.

“We could go tomorrow?”

Finally he met her eyes and nodded. “Fine. See you tomorrow.” With that, he opened the door and left.

With the comforting knowledge that tomorrow the bomb would be finished, Anders returned to his android in his clinic office. Justice was not happy about this, but Anders knew he wouldn’t say anything. Making his displeasure known was enough for now. He knew he couldn’t risk upsetting Anders too much before the bomb was finished; it was tricky work. Their emotions getting in the way of that could be disastrous for them all. This was a good thing, and Anders took advantage of it. His clinic was mercifully empty save for a man with a bad cold, and he managed to make a lot of progress before he turned in for the night.

Unfortunately for Anders, he had a terrible night yet again. Wracked with nightmares and visions of his solitary confinement, he awoke in a cold sweat expecting to be chained to the floor of a cell. With great relief he found himself to be on his cot in his clinic, his blanket wrapped so tightly around his legs it was constricting his movements. Anders fought the overwhelming urge to vomit. He couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten a decent sleep. It evaded him at the best of times, but now, when he needed to be at his best, his body seemed determined to fail him.

Today was the day. Today was the ever looming deadline he had been working toward. He wasn’t as organised as he had hoped to be, but perhaps that had been uncharacteristically optimistic of him. He just needed to take this a step at a time and believe in himself. That was something he had never been able to do. With a sigh he sat on the edge of his bed and ran his fingers through his hair. Hawke would be here soon. She couldn’t know how bad things were getting; she had enough on her plate as it was. He wouldn’t be an extra burden.

Anders had managed to do some clearing up in the clinic and organise some supplies for the refugees. He had even managed to swallow a hunk of dry bread with difficulty and it eased some of the churning in his stomach. That was a lot better than he had managed in the past, and he felt some strength returning to him. Not good enough though. He was still walking around in a hazy fog, trying to fight off his memories. There was not enough bread in the world to soak that up.

His rumination was interrupted by Hawke’s arrival. She had brought Varric and Isabela along, neither of whom seemed particularly happy to be visiting at such an early hour.

“Anders! Ready to go get some stuff?” Hawke seemed cheerful at least; she was the only morning person among them.

“Yes. Thank you, Hawke.” He tried to sound sincere. He was genuinely sincere, of course, but his exhaustion was numbing his ability to show anything else. He picked up his staff he had propped against the wall and took out the annotated map from his pocket. “We’ll need to enter the sewers, I’m afraid. The entrance isn’t far from here.”

Hawke snorted with laughter as Isabela made a face. “Ok, just lead the way! We’ll back you up if there’s any trouble.”

“Thank you.” He was repeating himself too much. “I’m very grateful for this.”

She laid a hand on his arm. “It’s fine, Anders. Let’s go.”

Anders smiled weakly, and silently berated himself for his constant thankfulness. That was maybe a little too much. He didn’t want to appear suspicious, and he didn’t want to seem too under pressure. Everything was normal. Maybe if he repeated that to himself enough he would start to believe it.

The walk to the sewer entrance was only five minutes from Anders’ clinic. They proceeded in silence, most of them too groggy for chatter. Anders was glad; there was no way he was up to holding a conversation yet. It was easier to disguise as a hangover or typical early morning tiredness like the others.

It didn’t stop Hawke from throwing Anders concerned glances. He should have remembered how bad he was at hiding his feelings, and how good she was at noticing them. He was better at a lot of things on a peaceful night’s sleep. He forced a smile and carried on walking as if nothing was wrong. _Everything is normal_ , he thought to himself.

Once they reached the sewer entrance, the others stood back while he turned the valve to open the conduit. The stench that filled the alley made him cough with disgust. Isabela pulled off her headscarf and tied it around her face, sharing a look with Varric as she did so. Hawke looked mildly repulsed, and simply stepped down the ladder into the sewer, calling up to them as she climbed.

“It bloody stinks, Anders. This better be worth it!”

Anders exhaled, and followed his friend down the ladder. It was definitely worth it, he mused. Varric and Isabela followed him, still dramatizing their disgust at the smell. He wasn’t pleased at Hawke’s choice of companions here, but he wasn’t surprised. She liked to surround herself with lighter-hearted people. Not that he was bitter about it, of course.

He had learned from his textbook that sela petrae was a mineral formed in built up faecal matter and urine. Not the most pleasant of materials to excavate, but it was a powerful substance and prized in Tevinter. Luckily the sewers were not particularly well maintained in Kirkwall- nothing was- so it wasn’t hard to find possible sources. In fact, they found the first pile by Varric almost walking straight into it, much to Isabela’s amusement.

Anders didn’t listen to the dwarf’s mutterings as he bent over the mound of filth, and without hesitation, rolled his sleeves back and delved his hand in. It was slimy and foul to breathe in even through Anders’ mouth. He held his breath as he sunk his arm in up to his elbow, feeling for where it became drier.

It felt like an age before his fingertips had to start physically digging, and the substance had a crumbling texture to it. He was so close now. He pulled out his arm with a loud squelch, and with his clean hand he drew out a plastic bag from his pocket, and taking it in his dirt-covered hand he dug back into the stench.

Now he could feel the substance getting harder and denser, and he scratched away, hoping he would gather some of the substance into the container. He pulled his hand out again and grinned triumphantly at the mass in the bag. Perfect. It wasn’t enough though; he would need at least a full bag’s worth.

The morning passed to afternoon without much incident. There were smugglers and other criminals hiding in the sewers, but that was what Hawke was for. She quickly dispatched of any that were foolish enough to stand in their way, and Anders was allowed to continue his collecting unopposed. Both Isabela and Varric cheered up immensely at a good fight, and they happily shared their loot between them. Anders declined any share. He wouldn’t need any soon.

They emerged in the late afternoon, eyes blinking and readjusting to the harsh light. They looked a sight, even though the others hadn’t been near the deposits they were still covered in less than savoury substances. Carefully they made their way back to Anders’ clinic to clean up. One of the helpers gave them a funny look as they entered, but Anders shook his head at her, willing her not to ask any questions. She seemed to understand.

Once they all looked a little more presentable, and Anders had thoroughly cleaned his hands, he turned to Hawke.

“I still need to collect more.”

“Ugh, more? Once was enough Anders, couldn’t you get everything while we were down there?” She wrinkled her nose at the memory of the stench.

“Oh, no! Please, Hawke. We need to go to the Bone Pit, I think. I just need drakestone now. No more sewers, I promise.”

“Fine, that’s fine. Do you need to go now?”

Anders faltered. He should be finishing this as soon as possible, but he relished the thought of another night to work on his android. “No. Tomorrow is fine, if you’re able.”

Hawke smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

She turned and walked away with Varric and Isabela, and Anders waved goodbye to the shouts of “See ya, Blondie!” as he began organising his workbench.

He was getting along well now. After placing the samples from the sewers to soak in water, he arranged the android’s pieces he had on his bench in the places they should go. It was starting to look as it should, a humanoid metal figure. At long last Anders began to solder the arms to the torso, a moment he had thought might never come. He could do this. He could do it all. His list of things to do was at last dwindling and he could at last see the bottom of the pile. The sudden realisation of this drove him on, giving him the motivation he hadn’t had in weeks, despite the ever present disapproval from Justice in the back of his mind.

Anders never slept that night. He was working too well, and the fear of what his dreams would bring was too strong. It wasn’t worth risking his mood and well-being like that. In this case, sleep deprivation was the healthier choice. It wasn’t the first time he had made that call. He made sure to drink some water and eat some bread while he waited for Hawke to arrive and sincerely hoped she would bring someone less derisive this time.

Hawke arrived with Isabela and Merrill in tow. Anders breathed a sigh of relief; Merrill would be more than happy to help. They set off out of the city, Hawke having the ability to leave and enter whenever she wanted with no questioning from the city guards. It was a useful perk to have, and one they had taken advantage of many times over the years.

The Bone Pit was a long walk out of the city, at the foot of the mountains that surrounded the city. They had an acrid smell about them, with bones and smashed carts littering the ground. The dragon that had nested here had been slayed a few months ago by Hawke herself, but the destruction left by the beast was still to be cleaned up. Supposedly Hawke had shares in the mines here, but she rarely spoke of it, and Anders supposed she had as little to do with it as possible. She didn’t like to be tied down to anything. He sighed. He was being bitter again. It was time to focus on the task at hand.

 There were some deposits outside the mine entrance, which was convenient. It was much nicer work than yesterday’s had been, this time Anders had to extract the ore with a small hammer. It still smelled quite unpleasant, although not quite as foul as the previous substance he’d been collecting. This was some very dirty work he was getting involved with.

It didn’t take long at all to collect the amount he needed to work with. There were only a few spiders and remaining dragonlings in the mines, which were easy to dispatch; they’d been here enough times before to know the drill. He finished earlier than he’d anticipated which gave them plenty of time to walk back to the city before the sunset. Anders stood in his clinic doorway as Hawke turned to make her goodbyes.

“So, will this potion take very much work?”

“It’ll need some preparation. And there will be other things I need to do… but no, not really.” That wasn’t a lie, at least.

“Let me know if you need me, Anders. Any time.” She patted his arm and left with the others.

Anders went inside, and quickly settled in front of his workbench. He was getting sick of the sight of it, the place created so much frustration and exhaustion. He pulled the bowl of water from yesterday towards him and found a clean container and filters from below the bench. As he poured the soaked substance through the filter, small deposits of white powder started to pile up on the paper. Good, he nodded. He seemed to have enough. His friends would be grateful they wouldn’t have to return to the sewers.

He left that to dry. He’d have to finish all of this tomorrow at the earliest, but he could get started on the rest. He reached over and grabbed a mortar and pestle from a shelf. The good thing about his height in a room so small was that nothing was out of his reach, which was helpful when he was so focused on a project. He made short work of grinding the drakestone he’d collected earlier into a fine powder, and brought down another mortar and pestle to grind some charcoal that was sitting in a box on the bottom shelf. He coughed as he picked it out, and begun to grind again. By the time he was finished, his wrist ached and his nose itched, but it was _done_. Another thing he could mentally tick off.

Now he could go back to his robotics without the guilt of his other project hanging over him. He still wanted this finished before the plan went through. It had to be done. This evening, he decided to do the more fiddly work he had been putting off. He curled his palm in the familiar way; sparks erupted from his finger, and he started to solder the wires in place.

The next time he was sitting at his bench, it was the following afternoon. He admired the almost complete android lying on his workbench. Really, he had only a few more wires and metal plates to put in place and the manual labour was over. Then came the really tricky part; using his magic to make the thing usable.

It had worked on Lady Stormheart- but then she had come to him mortally wounded. All it had taken was metal scraps, some wires and some knowledge of anatomy to fix her up- along with magic of questionable origins. It had given him some discomfort to use her life force to sustain the non-organic limbs, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that it was almost the same process as healing. Just with a little more outside help, that was all. He wasn’t maleficarum. No matter what the Chantry would try to brand him as.

This project, though. This was different. He had no life force to make it work with, not yet. _Perhaps not ever._ He shook the thought from his head. If something went wrong or differently… he was so close. He couldn’t allow any deviations from his plans to muddle his thinking. He allowed himself a few hours to continue tinkering with his robot. He knew Justice wasn’t happy, but the bomb was only a few simple steps away from being completed. It could wait. It would have to.

The time slipped away from him, and by the evening he had soldered his last wires and fitted his last valves. He moved each limb himself to test their flexibility and was pleased. Not quite the same as a person would move, but functional none the less. Better than the alternative, too. There was a switch on the back that controlled some of the electric current. It was hard to avoid the use of some electricity, but his magic would do most of the work to keep it running without him recharging it. Even Lady Stormheart had some electrical charge running through her artificial legs, to keep moving the little rubber bags she had instead of muscles.

Anders didn’t have time to be complacent. Justice was nudging at him to complete his “real” job, and he was right. His mind was almost at ease now; he might be able to complete both projects before the sunrise. He just had to keep at it. The sela petrae had dried enough to be ground today, so Anders did that as quickly as he could. His forearms could pay for it later. When that was complete, he carefully measured how much he would need. He’d scribbled down his calculations a few nights ago in his notebook, having noted the scale of the explosion he would need.

He had found some journals written on mining in his data tablet, and followed their directions for blasting rock. Luckily he had magic on his side for this, so he didn’t need the volume typically required for a job this big. He took hold of a plastic measuring beaker and set of scales and counted out the amount of sela petrae he needed.

It was a lot of powder, but not as much as was usually needed. He would bolster this with more than the usual drakestone for a bigger blast. That would do the trick. He tried to calm his thoughts and use steady hands and a good eye to get the right amount. Accuracy was so important, the smallest mistake at this point and he’d be risking it all for nothing. Well, _not quite all_ , he thought as his eyes roamed over his complete robot.

He mixed his measured powders together well, and added drops of water at a time. He wanted to form this into small plugs. Not only did his books tell him it would work more efficiently, it would just make the substance easier to handle and hide. Finally happy with the consistency, he sieved it through to break it up into a powder again. Job done. It had been so much easier than his dread had been warning him. The idea of this plan going through, succeeding even, was so tangible now.

He was getting ahead of himself. This would need to dry before he could think of forming it and placing it. Luckily, living below the city provided some benefits. A large pipe that provided heat to the alienage above ran through the walls of Anders’ clinic and office, and his bookshelf provided a convenient nook to place the powder to dry it off completely. He made a quick check with a thermometer to make sure it wasn’t too hot. Andraste’s knickers; it would be a mistake if it had been.

Anders needed to get everything else into place. He would be able to get everything into position tomorrow, Maker willing, he just needed a distraction. He stepped out of his office into the clinic proper, and glanced out of the windows. It was getting dark, but not too late for visiting. He tied his staff onto his back, never knowing the sorts of people he would run into on the way to Hightown. In Kirkwall, it was better to be safe than sorry.

The stars were beginning to appear in the sky when he arrived on Hawke’s doorstep. He’d kept to the shadows on his way there, always wary of rogue Templars more than the Carta or other bandit gangs that inhabited the streets. He had avoided trouble, and found himself feeling quite calm as he knocked on his friend’s door.

Hawke opened the door with a glass of wine in her hand. “Anders! Come on in!” From her excitement, Anders assumed it was not her first of the evening. As he stepped through the door, Isabela waved lazily at him from in front of the fire. Ah. He’d interrupted. Neither women seemed to mind, however, which eased his anxieties a little.

“Hawke, I have one last favour to ask you. It’s important.” His eyes flickered between Hawke in front of him, and Isabela grinning at him from the carpet.

“We can talk in private, if you’d prefer.”

“Ah. Thank you but it won’t take long. I just need to visit the Chantry tomorrow, there are some other elements I need to… collect… and I’ll need someone to keep the Grand Cleric busy.” His palms were sweating. He could feel Isabela’s eyes on him and regretted not going to a different room to ask.

“Oooh, what are we stealing? This sounds fun.” Hawke’s eyes gleamed. He could always rely on her to make trouble for the Chantry when possible.

“Ah, nothing interesting, it just has to come from the Chantry… I just need you to talk to her. Ask her questions, keep her talking. That’s it.”

“Ok, doesn’t sound difficult. Up for taunting the clergy tomorrow, babe?” She called to Isabela, who was still watching Anders, her eyes narrowed.

“Sure, as long as it doesn’t take all day” Isabela made a non-committal gesture with her hand and went back to drinking her wine.

“Thank you. It won’t take long, it’s just very important.” Anders nodded at them both, striding towards the door as he spoke. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“G’Night!”

He heard giggles as he closed the door behind him and smiled in spite of himself. One by one, he was getting over each hurdle. The knot of hopelessness still writhed in his abdomen, but it felt like it was easing. Come tomorrow evening, all he would have to do was lay low and bide his time.

He almost jogged back to his clinic; he walked at such a speed. He shut Lady Stormheart out of his office, and arranged his android to sit on his workbench almost before he knew it. 

Anders emptied his mind to focus on his mana. Creation was the most difficult of the schools of magic to master, and as a Spirit Healer, Anders had a better grasp than most. Still, this was a difficult use of his powers, and he knew it would fatigue him. He let go of that worry, and closed his eyes with one hand on his staff and the other only inches from the android’s core.

The power built up inside of his centre. It was a warm pressure, not unpleasant or painful, but more akin to a deep cleansing breath. Guiding it with his mind and breathing, it pulsed through his arms to his palms and there he paused. This was to grant it with the ability to move, to live as an artificial being can, without the need for battery changes and other indignities. It would gain the power within itself and keep it for future use, like muscle memory. It wouldn’t need a mage or lyrium to sustain that power, only the will of who resided within. Anders exhaled. Then he let go.

Sound crashed around him, and lights blinded. Then, darkness.

Anders was on the floor of his office, his head pounding. The room was a shambles, paper and materials were scattered everywhere. Amongst it all were torn scraps of metal.

His android lay crumpled on its side, limbs bent at unnatural angles and the neck twisted back sickeningly. The sight tore at Anders. What had he done? This was not what he wanted. This was not what should have happened. There was no way his spell could have done this, could it?

Waves of nausea rolled over him, and he bent over, fighting tears. Everything was ruined. Everything he had worked for. He must have made a mistake. He’d tried so hard but that wasn’t enough. He spat and cursed himself. Of course he wasn’t good enough. A stab of panic shot through him and he jerked his head up. Struggling, he pulled himself to his feet and took a step to his bookshelves, his clammy hands clawing at his work bench to keep himself steady.

The explosives... he tried to steady his breathing and looked at the shelf. The powder was still there, drying under the pipe. By some miracle, whatever powers had torn through here had kept it safe. Not quite everything was lost. Only…

Anders stumbled, and darkness claimed him again.

“Anders.”

A familiar voice. Anders didn’t open his eyes, but felt that some of the throbbing in his head had eased. He was still on the ground. He eased himself into a sitting position, and with his head bowed he opened his eyes. He still felt drained, and he could feel bruises forming where he had hit his bench on the second time down. The overwhelming nausea had subsided, however, and he raised his head.

Justice was standing in front of him, eyes glowing. So this was the Fade. He was still unconscious. Anders looked at the spirit, trying to keep the spite from his voice. “You’ll be glad to see I failed.”

“Anders…”

He said nothing, but managed to get to his feet. He felt steady once again.

“Anders, I… it wasn’t your fault.”

Anders replayed his actions in his head. Everything should have worked perfectly. He had done everything to the letter. He remembered the moment he had performed the spell, and the blinding light it had caused. The blinding blue light. He looked at Justice in horror as the realisation dawned on him.

“I’m sorry, Anders. If you had listened-“

“No. NO. You should have listened. You should have realised. Nothing I was doing was an injustice. Nothing I was doing would have interfered with the plan. I needed the time to complete it but I did it. I had it in my grasp…” His grief spilled into his voice and Anders stopped, unable to continue. He stared at the ground.

“It _was_ an injustice. I know-“

“No! It wasn’t for me! Surely you know I don’t expect to come out of this alive? I’m not even sure if I want to… I thought you’d understand. Instead, this whole time, I was doing this for you and you’ve just hounded me. I had enough to do without feeling your anger. I could feel it, Justice. I… That bloody thing _wasn’t_ for _me_.”

“I know.”

Anders stared at him. “You knew? Why the relentless disapproval then? I didn’t want you to suffer the same fate. You know what I will face when we go through with this. I’m willing to do that, it’s my cause. I am a mage, an apostate. It is my fate and I have accepted that. But you-“

“It is my cause too.”

“You’re a spirit. You needed me when Kristoff’s body decayed too much. You need a host to live. Andraste’s _knickers_ , you told us yourself in the Blackmarsh... spirits don’t return to the Fade, not without becoming a demon. Do you think they will let you walk away in my corpse after they’ve killed me? Are you supposed to live, having Templars hunt you until the flesh falls from my bones? What then? This was the only solution. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“I would not have to stay in your… body.” Justice stepped closer to him.

“What? You’d take someone else’s? They’d see you. That would last a few months at most, and then you’d be back to the same situation as Vigil’s Keep. Justice, why? Why did you do it? I wanted to keep you safe-“

“No. I would not do anything.”

“You mean…” Anders ran his fingers through his hair. “What do you mean?”

“I did not want to inhabit the metal being. I did not want to possess another mortal. I will not. It would not be worth it. We have spent too long on this cause… sharing a body… I… Come what may, I would not want to return to my fight… alone.”

Anders walked over to him. “Justice… you could find a new cause, something better. You would cease to exist if-“

“So would you. I… could not…” Justice reached out to Anders and hesitated. “Not without you.”

Anders was tentative as he closed the distance between the two of them. He frowned, concerned, his facial expression mirroring that of Justice. He wrapped his arms around the spirit and held him tight as Justice clutched at him in return. For so many years Justice had been his rock, had kept hold of his sanity for him, and had given him the strength to keep working for the mages’ cause. Beyond giving him a vessel in which to live, he had never considered his importance to the spirit. He had never considered that _he_ might need Anders as much as he needed Justice. Anders pulled away and pressed his forehead to Justice’s.

“We should have said something earlier. I’m… so sorry. I never meant-“

“I am sorry. I did not give you reason to believe it was anything but anger. I still find it difficult to understand these… feelings. They are not something I experienced in the Fade. I will learn from this.”

Anders suppressed a dry laugh. “You know there may not be time for that. We are going to the Chantry to put the explosives in place. We’ll have weeks at most before we need to take action. And then…”

“And then we will see what happens. You must put more faith in how people care about you, Anders. Hawke may have been a distraction before, but she has influence in this city, and she is fond of you.”

“Fond enough to forgive me? Us? I’m not so sure. Whatever happens-“

Justice gripped him tighter. “We’ll endure it. Together.”


End file.
